


Ne Me Quitte Pas.

by France



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War I, Angst, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Military Homophobia, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sad Ending, War, World War I
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 18:56:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2822621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/France/pseuds/France
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Kirkland didn't want this. Arthur Kirkland just wanted a peaceful house, a wife and a child. Why is it that everything, everyone must interfere?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ne Me Quitte Pas.

**Author's Note:**

> I am fully aware that the song "Ne me quitte pas" is from the 1950's, so it would not exist in World War 1 nor World War 2 even, but this was the best song I could find to fit this story.

 

 

 

 

> _‘Ne me quitte pas_
> 
> _Il faut oublier_
> 
> _Tout peut s'oublier_
> 
> _Qui s'enfuit déjà_
> 
> _Oublier le temps_
> 
> _Des malentendus_
> 
> _Et le temps perdu’_
> 
>  

  Arthur Kirkland was 28 when he left England and his family for France. They said that signing up for the army was voluntary, but any healthy man of age who refused to sign up was shunned, looked down upon, weak in the eyes of the public, so it's not as if they actually had a choice.  

Needless to say, the trenches were horrible. They weren't anything like what Arthur was expecting, but then again, it was the middle of a bloody war, you couldn't expect anything. They stank, they were disgustingly wet and dirty and Arthur was  incredibly happy when his troop was able to leave, and the next troop were to take their place. All Arthur needed to think about to keep him inspired to stay alive were his wife and child.

 His wife was stunningly beautiful, probably the most beautiful woman Arthur had ever laid his eyes upon. Her name was Elizabeth, and  _god, did he love her._  She was Arthur's first love, and he hoped she would be his last. Together, they had a son. His name was Alfred, he was energetic, loud, and had the appetite of a horse. He was only 7 years old when Arthur left.

  Arthur wrote to them every chance he got. He preferred to not write in the trenches, and in their free time his fellow soldiers all went to the pub to get drunk off their asses, but Arthur wanted to write somewhere quiet, where he wouldn't be interrupted.

 And so he found himself in a small café, not far from the pub, but far enough. As he walked inside he noticed that inside there were only two other customers and a man behind a counter with his blond hair tied back into a pony tail. Arthur found that strange, back in London, men were to keep their hair short as to not seem too feminine, even though Arthur didn't see being feminine as a bad thing, 

 

 

 “Do you do tea here?” Arthur asked as he walked up to the counter, drawing attention to himself.

 “Non.” Was the simple answer he received from the man as he looked Arthur up and down. “British soldier, hm? What are you doing here?” 

 Arthur bit back a well deserved insult to the man, grit his teeth and clenched his fist.

 

 “I came here in hope for a cuppa and some bloody peace and quiet.” 

 “We're at war, mon amour, peace and quiet is wanted by all but the Germans. But a cup of tea? I think England is the only place who wants that.”

Arthur found himself unable to speak for a moment. He looked at the taller man with his eyebrows furrowed. He couldn't help but notice...

 

 “What did you call me?”

 “Hm? What do you mean?”

 “You called me mon.. Mon amour.. What does that mean?” 

Who was he kidding, honestly? Arthur was fluent in French, and the stutter he had while asking surely gave him away. And the Frenchman, of course notice.

 

 

 “It seems to me like you already know.” And the frog fucking _smirked._

 “Then why on earth did you call me that? You don't even know my name.” Arthur growled. He wasn't in the mood for this. He just wanted a cup of tea.

The man leaned forward over the counter, resting his chin on his palms. He fluttered his eyes a few times and grinned up at him.

 

 “Then enlighten me.” 

Arthur stared down at the man before sighing and smoothing his hair back.

 

 “You know, the polite way would be to introduce yourself first.”

 “Oh? So eager to know my name already?” 

 “Shut it, frog. Of course not. I don't even care who you are. Now, if you don't sell tea, what do you have?”

The blond seemed to smile before he stood up straight, looking directly at the man.

 

 “We're basically on rations, mon cher. Whilst all your soldier friends are getting drunk on beer, you're here. Now tell me, do you not like beer?”

 “Just tell me what you have here.” Arthur said, clearly getting fed up with this man's nonsense. The man seemed to notice and his expression softened.

 “We have clean water and a little wine.” he said softly.

 “Then I'll have some water please.” Arthur asked and sat down at a table. He noticed that one of the other customers had left already. It was just him, another customer, and the unnamed café keeper.

  The long haired man brought the water over and sat down next to Arthur, leaning back in the chair.

 

 “I've always had a thing for a man in uniform.”  He commented, earning a scowl from Arthur as he brought out a piece of paper and a pen and sipped on the water.

 “Writing a letter? Who to?”

 “My wife and son.” he replied shortly, starting to write.

 “I too have a son. No wife though. She died a while ago.” Arthur put down his pen as he lifted his head,

 “I apologise for your loss. What was her name?”

 “Joan.”

 “Like Jeanne of Arc?”

 “Oui, like Joan d' Arc. It was hard, but me and my little Matthieu made it through.” He smiled, and Arthur noticed his expression droop a little before picking it back up and tilting his head.

 

 “Please don't mind me, I wouldn't want to disturb your letter, I understand you miss your family.”

Arthur nodded his head in response and got back to the message. 

 

  “ _Dear Elizabeth and Alfred,_

_I truly hope you two are doing well. I miss you both dearly, my darlings, and hope this war is over soon so I can be with you both again. It's not that bad here, the trenches smell a bit, but other than that it's just fine! Alfred, you should be proud of me, i'm like one of those heroes you've always loved! I'm writing this in a café I found, all the other boys went to the pub to have a beer, so Elizabeth, darling that's why you should be proud of me. This café is nice, not many people come here apparently, so it's a quiet and ideal place to write to you. The keeper of this shop is quite odd. He's French, so that might be why, but he keeps calling me all these strange things and asking about you two. I asked him about his family and apparently he has a son, the same age as you, Alfred! Maybe when this is all over, you can be friends? That is, if I continue to speak to him. His wife passed away though, before the war, it makes me fret ever losing you, Lizzy, the mere thought of it. This man refuses to tell me his name, because I didn't tell him mine. Maybe I'll find it out though. If I do, i'll tell you it, I promise. I'll be like Sherlock Holmes! You consider him a hero, right Alfred?  Anyway, I must end this here, so please do send me letters back. I love you, or should I say, je taime._

_Your Loving Husband and Dearest Father,_

_Arthur Kirkland.”_

 

 Arthur smiled as he re-read his letter. He couldn't tell the truth about what it was really like, how terrible it was or else he'd get in trouble. People always read the letters before they were sent off. He didn't notice a man reading over his shoulder, though, not until the man spoke up.

 “You spelt, je t'aime wrong, Arthur.” The cafe owner chuckled, now knowing his name, “There's an apostrophe after the 't' and before the 'a'.”

Yes, Arthur was good at speaking French, not so much writing and reading it.

 “Thank you, I suppose. Though i'm sure my family wouldn't notice.” Arthur replied, editing the error. “And thank you for the water, I best be off now, though. How much did it cost?”

 “Clean water is just 10 British pence, but for today, I'll let you go free. Be sure to come back when you can, and be careful out there.”

 “I will. Why's it free for me though?”

 “Because you interest me.”

The owner smiled while Arthur had a confused look on his face, but it quickly faded as he began to put his stuff in his bag and head to the door.

 “Francis.” The owner said just as Arthur had reached the exit.

 “What?”

 “Francis. That's my name.” He smiled and started wiping down some tables. Arthur took one last glance at him before leaving into the evening to head to his mates, his mind clouded somehow.

 

He simply must visit that place again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Needed to get this out of my drafts oops


End file.
